


Sans Soleil

by MoanDiary



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s04e10 Who's da New King of Hell?, F/M, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 03:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary
Summary: If all he had—all he would ever have—was a handful of moments, he would do it again.





	Sans Soleil

Standing on that balcony, watching the tears shimmer in her ocean eyes, he wants to tell her: he would do it again.

If all he had—all he would ever have—was a handful of moments, he would do it again. A few brief, chaste kisses. A slow dance alone. Embracing over a spent bullet on a plain silver chain. Plucking out the simple melody of “Heart and Soul.” He would do it again.

He wants to tell her what it meant to him, how it changed him. How an ageless monster felt, for a few meager years, like a man. How being a man, her seeing a man, was somehow more thrilling than winging across the cosmos, than spinning a galaxy into existence.

He wants to tell her that what he will miss won’t be the hazy golden sunlight of Los Angeles, or beautiful starlets in his bed, or the Mexican food. But that to be without her—to never see her smile or eyes, or feel her heart beat against his for the rest of his unending life—is the only thing that cuts him to the core.

He wants to say that doing what’s right, _finally, _doing what she would do if she were in his place, is the only thing that consoles him. Makes him feel, here at the end of everything he loves, not like an angel, but like a human deserving of Heaven. A man deserving of redemption, of forgiveness. A man who could forgive himself his weakness, his monstrousness. Even as he stands in this mess he’s made. In the pain he’s caused her, the pain he's still causing her.

He doesn’t say it, doesn’t know how. Even with every word ever uttered at his command he can’t articulate it. He hopes his kiss, their kiss, hot with the taste of tears, her precious face cradled in his hands, will say it for him.

He says “Goodbye.”

He thinks, _I’d do it again_.


End file.
